


mor(t)ality

by cartoonmoomba



Series: I walked around the world until I found my gravestone [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: AU: WoL, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartoonmoomba/pseuds/cartoonmoomba
Summary: On the deck of the airship she stands, haloed by the glow of the moon. “Are you afraid of the Gods, Cid?” The Warrior of Light asks. [drabble, Cid/my WoL]





	mor(t)ality

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XIV does not belong to me.

On the deck of the airship she stands, haloed by the glow of the moon. “Are you afraid of the Gods, Cid?” The Warrior of Light asks.

In his spot at the ship’s wheel he watches her and wonders: does he fear the Gods? Does he _believe_ in the Gods?

“I do not believe in the Twelve,” Cid says at last. “But I believe in you, my friend.”

She smiles at him. Her teeth are pinpricks of starlight against the dark cosmos of her shadowed face. He loves her, even as she approaches him and comes into the lantern’s light. It washes her anew in colour and its warmth until she is mortal girl once more.

In his embrace she is flesh and bone, soft skin and scented hair and calloused fingers under the grip of her gloves. She breathes against his chest: shallow, slowly, and alive.

He holds her in his arms and they sway with the ship’s gentle course through the night. He counts: _Ifrit, Titan, Garuda, Leviathan, Mog, Shiva, Ramuh, Odin, Ravana, Bismarck, Thordon—_

_The Triad–_

_Bahamut–_

_Ultima–_

_(all someone’s gods; all someone’s faiths; all crushed in the palm of her hand)_

_I do not fear the Gods,_ he thinks with shame. _But I am afraid of you._

.

.

Othard looms in the distance of their fates. It is unavoidable, escape unobtainable. “Who do they pray to?” The Warrior muses in the light of dawn. “Do they believe in the Twelve? Where from has the Primal Shrinryu risen?”

Her heartbeat is a pulsing brand against his skin. The smile she sends him is radiance; is brilliance. His mortal girl: battle-worn and scarred. Their _Warrior of Light_. Her Mother’s _Crystal Bearer_.

“Does it matter whom they pray to?” Cid asks against the crown of her head. Her laughter reverberates his bones.

“I suppose not,” she replies. “I was merely curious.”

Her eyes reflect the rising sun. _It matters not_ , Cid mourns, _because soon enough, they will pray to you._

.

.

At night she comes to him and whispers:

“Am I still mortal, Cid?” The blue of her eyes is the blue of her Mother Crystal. Her lips are bloodied under the press of her teeth.

“Am I still mortal, Cid, or have I already become something _more_?”

.

.

In the journal she carries he catches her writing once, absorbed in the stroke of her quill and the words weighing down the pages:

_I am no one else but me._


End file.
